


Cutting Down The Family Tree

by Xelkyrien



Series: Changeling [3]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Akuma Attack, Akuma Possession, Akumatized Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Birthday, Episode: s03 Boulangerix | Bakerix, F/M, Family, Family Bonding, Family Drama, Family Issues, Family Secrets, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:22:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24248749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xelkyrien/pseuds/Xelkyrien
Summary: Set during Season 3 Episode 5 “Bakerix”. Marinette is having trouble deciding what to get her father for his birthday when it’s brought to her attention that there’s a branch missing from her family tree.
Relationships: Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug & Rolland Dupain, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug & Tom Dupain, Rolland Dupain & Tom Dupain, Sabine Cheng/Tom Dupain
Series: Changeling [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1236128
Comments: 4
Kudos: 42





	Cutting Down The Family Tree

**Author's Note:**

> Forgive me if this isn't very good. I'm kind of angry right now.  
> On another note: you'll see Marinette referred to as a "demon" pretty often in the story. That's because "akuma" means "demon".

The Evillustrator stood in the center of a familiar pink room, intently sketching away on his drawing tablet. Though the object taking shape before him was exactly as he had intended it to be he seemed displeased, regarding it with an unsatisfied frown marring his face.

“But how is the train going to cross the sea between France and the UK?” a small voice asked, drawing the villain’s attention away from his work. He turned to look at the tiny red creature sitting on the pink desk in the corner, a look of confusion momentarily replacing the frown on his face before he noticed what the being was watching on the computer monitor: The Startrain. The artistically inclined supervillain shrugged one shoulder and turned back to his work, only offering a simple reply to the question, “Well, there’s a tunnel under the English channel, Tikki.”

Behind him The Evillustrator heard a barely audible gasp from the kwami, which was the only warning he had before the tiny ladybug threw another question at him, her voice laced with awe and excitement, “Did a superhero do that?”

“No,” the artist responded, the kwami’s enthusiasm bringing a small smile that looked more like a grimace to his face, “just regular men with machines.”

“Huh. I can’t believe how many inventions Humans have made since I last had an owner.” The kwami mused. The young demon merely shrugged again and continued to sketch, the frown returning to his face as he once more focused on his project. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Tikki fly up to him, her gaze trained on the tablet on his arm. She tilted her head and asked, “What are you doing, Marinette?”

“I’m making a sweater. It’s a tradition, you know. I always knit my dad a sweater every year for his birthday. There’s no reason to stop just because I’m a monster now.” Marinette replied casually. The last statement caused Tikki to frown. She wanted to reassure her owner that she wasn’t a monster, but had long since learned that the words would fall on deaf ears. The girl had learned at there were some advantages to her powers and was starting to utilize them more often, so rather than say something she knew Marinette would refuse to believe Tikki focused on what her owner was doing and commented, “But you’re not knitting.”

“No, but this is about as much work as knitting would have been. I want it to be perfect so I’m drawing out the texture and all of the fine detailing.” Marinette stated. She was silent for a moment, drawing away, before taking her pen from the tablet’s surface and sighing, “I wanted to do something special for my dad this time around, but I can’t think of anything. With all of this negativity swirling around in my head my mind cast doubts on anything I thought of. I feel like nothing I could do would be good enough.”

Tikki gave her owner a reassuring smile and said, “I’m sure you’ll come up with the perfect idea. You always do.”

“I always _did_. Before all of… this.” The shapeshifter corrected, gesturing to her current form as she spoke the last word in case it wasn’t clear what she was talking about. She didn’t need to. They both knew what she meant. Silence hung in the air between them for a moment, then Marinette glanced at the drawing on the tablet. She sighed and moved over to her desk, falling into the chair. She sat hunched over, her elbows on her legs and her hands running through her currently short orange and purple hair. She looked defeated.

“His birthday is _today_ , Tikki. I need to come up with something _now_.” The young demon groaned, rubbing her hands over her purple masked face before leaning back in her chair to stare at the ceiling. No inspiration was to be found there.

“Why don’t you take a break?” Tikki suggested, “Maybe you’ll find something to inspire you if you take a walk around Paris.”

Marinette gave a half-hearted nod and sat up. She fished a flash drive out of her desk and stuck it into the tablet, saving her work to it so she would be able to finish the sweater later if she couldn’t come up with anything else. The designer stood, casting the device back into her desk before transforming back into her default form as Lila in a flurry of black and purple, and began making her way down to the living room.

* * *

“Oh come on now.” the sound of her mother’s voice found her ears as Marinette descended into the living room. She saw the woman that she no longer resembled near the window talking on the phone. Interested, she kept one ear trained on the conversation while she moved over to the refrigerator to get an apple. “It really is a shame, Rolland. It’s your son’s fortieth birthday today and, uh, I know how much Tom would love it if you-”

Marinette watched her mother suddenly jerk the phone away from her ear and look at it in shock. Sabine then clutched the phone with both hands, staring at it in disappointment. Leaning back against the refrigerator, the girl asked, “Is that my grandfather again?”

“So, he’s definitely not coming then?” the green-eyed demon questioned after her mother gave an exasperated “yes” to her first query. The woman sighed heavily in response, “I did everything I could. It would have made your dad so happy. He doesn’t talk very openly about his feelings, but I know he’s sad that he doesn’t see his own father anymore. It’s a shame.”

While she spoke mother and daughter had made their way to the table and sat across from one another. Marinette took in what Sabine said, thinking back to the time when she was away from her parents. It had only been a few days, but what if she hadn’t come back? What if she had but they hadn’t believed her about who she was? She imagined she would be feeling a lot like her dad did about his father. She didn’t want her mother to worry about things that didn’t happen though, so instead of voicing these thoughts the akumatized girl commented, “I’d really like to meet him some day too.”

“He hasn’t left his home or seen a single person for over twenty years.” The raven-haired woman stated, turning her gaze towards her daughter. Marinette looked away, focusing her eyes on her apple. She couldn’t help but wonder dejectedly, “I know, but why not?”

“Uh… uh…” suddenly Sabine hesitated, as though she weren’t sure how to, or perhaps if she should, answer. When she continued her words were somewhat hurried and on edge, “He’s a little old-fashioned in his ways. He’s not exactly what you’d call modern.”

That didn’t answer Marinette’s question in the slightest. She knew her mother was beating around the bush and avoiding giving her a real answer, but didn’t know why. The auburn-haired demon gave the woman a _look_ that said she knew exactly what Sabine was doing and asked, “But what happened twenty years ago?”

“Uh… “ Sabine began again then cast her gaze away, “Well, it’s complicated. If you really want to know more about it you should probably ask your dad.”

* * *

After her mother decided to pass the buck, Marinette sighed and went downstairs to the bakery where her father was kneading dough, singing as he worked. She flung the door open and asked her question before he knew she was there, hoping to catch him off guard enough that he would give her the real answer, “Hey, dad. Why hasn’t grandpa left his house in twenty years?”

The reaction was instantaneous. Tom froze, becoming tense. She had successfully caught him off guard, but he paused for too long. The girl knew before her father even began speaking that she wouldn’t be getting her answer.

“Oh… Well… because he’s very fond of tradition and… uh…” Tom replied nervously, desperately seeking the words to tell his daughter without actually providing any information, “If you want to know more about it you should probably ask grandma.”

Marinette frowned at this, but said no more. Instead she closed the door and began the climb back up to her room, all thoughts of a walk around Paris having long been forgotten. She wondered what was so bad that her parents couldn’t tell her. She had been through a lot recently. However terrible the secret was she was certain she could handle it. Of course, she didn’t know for certain that it _was_ actually something bad and she was definitely jumping to some conclusions, but her mind tended to go to some very dark places these days.

* * *

“Hmm. Well, he’s always lived in the past. It’s complicated. If you really want to know about it you should probably ask your dad or your mom.” Was what her grandmother told her when she video called her on her tablet. She only groaned in reply. The woman quickly bid her farewell and ended the call, clearly just as eager to be done with the subject as Sabine and Tom had been.

“Ugh!” Marinette threw her head back over the striped arm of the pink and brown chaise she was seated on and tossed the tablet aside. Her voice was full of frustration as she asked aloud, “Why won’t anyone just answer me?!”

Then, in an instant, something clicked in her mind. Marinette shot up and darted over to the computer, her fingers flying over the keyboard. Tikki flew over to her as she utilized the infinite power of the World Wide Web to help her achieve her goal, noting the girl’s expression and what it could possibly mean, “Judging by that look on your face I’m thinking you’ve come up with your idea.”

“You’re right, Tikki. I know exactly what I’m getting for my dad for his birthday.” The young demon stated with a confidence she hadn’t displayed in a while, grabbing a pen and copying something from her screen to a piece of paper, “I’m gonna get him and his dad back together again. I found Rolland Dupain’s address. Let’s go.”

Swiftly grabbing the note and tucking Tikki away in her bag, Marinette rushed out of the house into Paris in search of the grandfather she had never met.

* * *

The search took the girl to a small house sandwiched between two much taller buildings, with a green gate blocking her way to the front door. For a moment the idea that she could turn into a cat and just slip through crossed her mind but she wasn’t looking to commit any crimes so she merely reached up and rang the bell atop the gate. As soon as she did an irritated voiced came from a pipe next to the gate and demanded, “What do you want?”

“Uh… I’m… uh…” Marinette hesitated. It occurred to her that if she told him she was his granddaughter she would likely get the same result her mother did. She had to think of something else, quickly, so she tried, “a friend?”

“I don’t have any friends.” The voice replied immediately and cut communication. The akumatized girl groaned internally and thought, _‘this won’t be easy…’_

Externally, she sighed and shifted forms, taking on the appearance of the postal worker that delivered the mail to her home. She rang the bell again and the same demand was made. This time she said, “I have some mail for a Rolland Dupain.” To which the voice told her “Do what you usually do. Throw the mail in the trash.”

With yet another sigh Marinette changed forms again and once more rang the bell. The familiar demand was made and she said, “It’s for the firefighters’ calendar.” Only to be met with another refusal, “Eh, toss it in a fire. I hate calendars.”

 _‘I guess the third time isn’t the charm.’_ Was all her mind could come up with after the failed attempt. In a flurry of black and purple she resumed Lila’s form. Then the girl took a step back and hung her head, walking away in defeat while telling Tikki, “There’s no use. It’s hopeless.”

“Come on. That’s not the Marinette I know, giving up so easily.” The small red creature countered, encouraging her owner to keep trying. The girl turned her green eyes toward the tiny being poking its head out from her bag and frowned, “That was the old Marinette.”

The sound of a van pulling up drowned out whatever Tikki had said next, the engine sound cutting off a moment later. The sound of a bell caught Marinette’s attention before she could ask her kwami to repeat her statement, causing the girl to whip around and stare in the direction of the impassable gate. She heard the demand and was certain that the man carrying a sack of flour that had rung the bell would be turned away. It took her a moment to recover from the surprise when she instead heard, “Oh! Come in! Come in!”

Without another thought the redhead rushed over to the gate and pushed it open before the delivery man could enter, hurriedly explaining, “Hello, I’m Marinette, Mr. Dupain’s granddaughter. I was just about to go in myself. You can leave me the sack. I’ll bring it to him.”

“Rolland has a granddaughter?” The man asked in disbelief. Marinette smiled nervously and hastily replied, “For fourteen years.” _‘We’ve just never met...’_

To Marinette’s relief and annoyance the man didn’t ask any further questions about her relation to Rolland. In her opinion he was far too trusting. He seemed satisfied enough with what she had told him and simply shrugged, dropping the sack of flour into the young demon’s arms. It was much heavier than she thought it would be and she struggled under the weight but managed not to drop it. Seeing this, the man offered to help but she shrugged him off with an assurance that she could handle it and finally made her way to the front door of her grandfather’s house.

Upon entering the small house Marinette felt as though she had stepped back in time. The dim lighting unevenly illuminated the space and she could only just make out the framed photos hanging on the walls from years long-passed. The girl moved through the door to her right to what seemed to be the living room where a grandfather clock counted the seconds. A cabinet filled with trophies sat along one wall. There were more old photographs in this room and a television that looked to be decades old. It was a strange and fascinating sight that helded the redhead transfixed.

“Put the sack down in the usual place, Gilbert.” A voice suddenly snapped her out of her reverie and Marinette cast her gaze towards its owner to see a shorter man with a ring of grey hair around a large bald patch wearing blue shorts and a blue and white striped buttoned shirt. This was Rolland Dupain. This man was her grandfather.

Marinette was torn from her thoughts twice in as many minutes, this time by a mouse scurrying passed her between her feet. She glanced around for a moment but saw no indication as to where the flour belonged, so she asked, “Where’s his usual place?”

Much like her father’s earlier, Rolland’s reaction was instantaneous. He gasped and spun around, staring at the young lady in his living room in shock while bracing his hands on the countertop behind him. Immediately he threw an accusation her way, “You’re not Gilbert!”

“Clearly, but I _am_ the one delivering your flour today.” Marinette replied with a hint of sarcasm before she could catch herself. As expected, Rolland regarded her with suspicion, “Aren’t you a little young to be delivering flour?”

“If that were the case I wouldn’t be delivering it, would I?” The young demon shot back, then once again internally cursed herself. She needed to make a good first impression.

“You can put the sack down now. Have a nice day.” The elderly man replied brusquely and immediately turned back to the counter to continue kneading the dough that sat there. Marinette watched as he demanded salt and his mice pushed a container over to him, mildly impressed by how well-trained the rodents seemed to be. She searched around for something to say to keep the conversation going, eventually settling on, “So, you’re a baker then, huh?”

“Are you a flour delivery girl or a nosey detective?” The gruff man asked rhetorically, glancing over his shoulder at her, “Go on. Put the bag down and be on your way.”

Marinette pursed her lips, biting back remarks that would potentially anger the man. This wasn’t going well and letting her new-found temper get the better of her would turn the situation into a full-blown disaster. She didn’t say anything immediately, but she didn’t put the flour down and leave either. Tikki had been right earlier. She had given up too quickly, but she didn’t intend to make the same mistake twice in one day. Instead she glanced about the room, looking for something that might get him talking, then her eyes landed on the oven.

“That oven you have there. It’s a ’72 La Panyol, right? It’s a rare wood-fired model. They only made a few hundred of them-” Marinette ventured and was cut off as Rolland once more turned a look of shock in her direction, questioning “How did you know that?”

“My dad taught me that.” She shrugged. He stared at her for a long moment but rather than say anything about her reply Rolland returned to his dough, “Just put the sack down and have a good day.”

Marinette did neither of these things. Instead she ventured further and commented on the ancient television in the living room, “That’s a weird-looking computer you’ve got there.”

Rolland wasted no time correcting her about the nature of the device. She couldn’t help but wonder aloud if it still worked, shifting the flour sack to her shoulder so she could test what appeared to be the power button. As she did so her grandfather explained to her that it simply stopped working one day, to which she frowned.

“It probably doesn’t meet cable standards anymore.” The auburn-haired girl mused, “We just watch everything on the internet now.”

“Pfft. The internet is just as crazy as cordless telephones. That’s not how it’s done. How can solid pictures go through if there aren’t any wires?” The elderly man dismissed her statement irritably. The young demon huffed, “Simple. They’re sent in wave form to relay antennas, which are connected to satellites.”

“That’s not how it’d done if you want to talk to someone.” Rolland huffed back. “Now put the sack down and leave me alone! I’ve got work to do!”

Marinette raised a skeptical eyebrow, watching the balding man continue to work the bread dough. He was angry. She’d already failed. She really should just leave before she made things even worse, but the akumatized girl’s defiant streak kept the flour sack held firmly and guided her feet over to the photographs near the wall. They were all in sepia tone, one depicting a car, another a younger Rolland, yet another showing a small house, but the one that captured her attention was the one she couldn’t see. Carefully, Marinette reached out and picked up the framed photo that had been lying face down on the cabinet. It was a picture of her parents on their wedding day with her grandmother standing next to them. Rolland wasn’t in the picture, but somehow that didn’t surprise her. And idea wormed its way into her head then, _‘Is this why…?’_

“You really are a nosey detective!” the picture was snatched from her hand before she could finish the thought and placed back on the cabinet with its image hidden from the world. Rolland glared, “Don’t touch a thing! Put the sack down and leave!”

The old man attempted to shoo her away, but she dropped the sack in his arms and skirted around him, rushing to the kitchen. She moved over to the dough he had been working and began working it herself, commenting, “Oh, nice bread dough!”

“Hey! No! Don’t touch that! That’s not how it’s-” The balding man, a mix of surprised and annoyed, followed after her, slowed down by the heavy sack of flour. Marinette cut him off in his reprimand, “Don’t worry. I know how it’s done.”

“You take the dough and fold it in half,” She explained, working the dough as she spoke to prove to him she knew what she was doing, “rhythmically pressing it flat, snapping it slightly…”

With a jolt Marinette realized that the last three words had been said in unison with her grandfather. She snapped her gaze to him and found he was just as astonished as she was. The young demon recovered first, hurriedly continuing her explanation, “It gives it elasticity and develops the gluten in the dough so that it holds together well after it’s been baked.”

“Pfft. You’re just a young girl reciting a lesson. You don’t really know how it’s done.” Rolland huffed. This gave her pause and she looked up. The thought _‘ok, no more Mrs. Nice Demon’_ crossed her mind and she was placing her hands on her hips, a challenge in her eyes, “I _do_ know my stuff! Maybe even better than you, _old man_!”

For a moment he merely gaped at her audacity. Eventually he recovered and said in disbelief, “Better than me? Better than me?! Better than me! Charlotte, Marie-Louise, Marguerite, do you hear that! ‘Better than me’!”

By the end he was laughing, clearly finding Marinette’s claim to be absurd. Then the laughter stopped unexpectedly and Rolland pointed a finger at the auburn-haired girl, accepting her challenge, “We’ll see about that! We’re going to make some bread together and then we’ll see who’s the baker and who’s only good for delivering flour!”

* * *

It wasn’t long before both Marinette and Rolland were at the counter each intently working their own dough. Somehow, the elderly man seemed happier. For all the man’s talk about not needing anybody, Marinette guessed he was actually pretty lonely. He was eager to tell her things, even sharing with her the tale of how the yeast he used had been grown by their family for over two thousand years and complaining about how people started putting vegetables and cheese on bread to make pizza. That had led to him complaining about Tom putting rice in the bread dough, which had unfortunately led to the subject of the rift between Tom and Rolland. Like the other members of her family, he wouldn’t give her any details either, so instead she’s convinced him to make a deal with her: If her bread came out tasting as good as hers he would do one favor for her.

It was all going well until he heard her singing.

“That song…” Rolland froze, “it’s the song my son and I used to sing when we were… kneading bread dough… ”

“There’s no way you could know that song!” The elderly man stopped what he was doing and turned to face her, causing Marinette to stop as well and look at him like shoplifter caught trying to walk out with a hundred dollars’ worth of goods. His tone changed from disbelief to something more akin to fear as he continued, “Unless… unless you’re… No! No, that’s impossible!”

“Yes…” Marinette sighed, knowing full well that there was no denying it at this point, “I’m your granddaughter, Marinette.”

“You’re… My granddaughter?” Rolland asked incredulously. For a moment, the green-eyed girl smiled slightly, thinking the reaction to be a favorable one, but her expression fell in an instant as the man exclaimed, “Liar! I don’t have a granddaughter! Betrayal! Deceit! It’s just like adding new ingredients to bread, deceptive! That’s not how it’s done! ”

Before she had a chance to react Rolland was pushing her out of the kitchen shouting, “Shoo! Get out! Get out! Out with the liar!”

Almost instinctively, Marinette shifted forms, taking on the shape of a cat to swiftly dodge around her grandfather, then changing back so she could get a word in edgewise, “No! I’m not leaving! Not until you’ve tasted my bread. You promised you would.”

It occurred to the akumatized girl too late that shapeshifting may not have been a good idea. Without a word the balding man stumbled back into the kitchen and slammed the sliding doors shut, cutting the room off from her. However, she wasn’t about to let that deter her, pressing on, “Whether you like it or not you _are_ my grandfather and today is your son’s birthday. Don’t you want to see him again?”

* * *

The next thing Marinette knew, her grandfather had been akumatized. She had to turn off the oven and swiftly transform into Ladybug to go after him.

It ended up being a long difficult battle. She and Cat Noir ended up saving the day once again. The secret ingredient to their success had been, of all things, a bottle of ketchup. She had been at the superhero game for so long she didn’t bother questioning what her power gave her anymore. With her grandfather deakumatized and all of the damage that was caused restored to its former state Ladybug fist-bumped Cat Noir to celebrate their job-well-done, doing her best to ignore the eternally festering bitterness at her core that reared its head every time they saved a villain.

“My bread! I left some bread baking in the oven and my granddaughter’s there! It’s dangerous! It could catch fire!” Rolland was on the verge of panic as he came to, worried for the safety of the granddaughter he only just met. Ladybug noticed and intervened, walking over to the elderly man and returning his canister of yeast, “I’m sure your granddaughter’s got it under control.”

“I must get home.” The man insisted as he took back the canister, clearly still concerned. It was at that moment that the hero’s earrings decided to beep, signaling that she was almost to the point of transforming back. Hearing this, Cat Noir offered to take Rolland back home instead. She thanked him and raced back to the house.

Her partner and her grandfather arrived only moments after she returned to her default form. Marinette heard the old man calling for her then burst through the door as she was about to remove the bread from the oven. She looked to the two of them, taking a moment to put up a front of ignorance, and asked, “Grandpa, Cat Noir, is everything ok?”

“Uh, yes.” Rolland quickly composed himself, walking over to her, “I was just scared the bread might be over-baked.”

Marinette smiled to herself at that, knowing he had been worried about her. She took the bread out of the oven and placed it on the countertop, standing aside to allow Rolland to examine it. After some intense scrutiny he said, “It looks alright.”

“See? I do know how it’s done.” The auburn-haired girl boasted, her small smile morphing into a triumphant smirk.

Cat Noir, who had been watching from the doorway, piped up and told the two, “Well, if it’s all good, I’ll be on my way.”

“No, wait!” Rolland commanded, stopping the hero in his tracks, “We need a judge to determine which of these loaves is the best.”

“Uh, the thing is, I’m gonna transform back soon and-“ The cat-themed hero tried to protest but was interrupted by Rolland, who took him by the arm and dragged him over to the counter. Cat had very little choice but to participate in the contest, remarking, “You’re a real tough cookie even without your super powers.”

The blond looked between the two members of the Dupain family, as though hoping to still find some way out of this, before resigning himself to his fate and taking a sample from one of the loaves of bread. He took a minute to chew the bread before moving on the other and sampling it as well. Everybody in the room watched on in anticipation.

“Mm. Both these breads are delicious. Do you have any jam by any chance?” The hero finally said, which was met with a joint “That’s not how you taste bread!”

“They’re both tasty in different ways.” Cat Noir continued after a minute of stunned silence. He gestured to each loaf of bread as he explained, “This one’s more traditional and this one has a delicate flavor that makes it special. It’s too hard to choose. I’m sorry, but I really do have to get going.”

Just like that the blond was gone, rushing from the house as his ring beeped, with a thank you for the snack. Marinette and Rolland watched him go, neither one really sure what to do next. The silence wasn’t broken until the elderly man tried a piece of Marinette’s bread and gave it his approval, “Mm. He’s right. This flavor is really good.”

“I did it the way my dad does it.” The auburn-haired demon explained, happiness creeping into her voice for once. Confused, her grandfather asked, “But, how?”

“I added rice to my dough while you weren’t looking.” Marinette told him, breaking off a piece of bread and offering it to the mice watching them from the counter. The little animals dug into it enthusiastically, “You can never have just one bite.”

“So now can I ask you to do that one thing? Will you come home with me? We’re celebrating dad’s fortieth birthday tonight and I’m sure he’d be so happy to see his dad.” The green-eyed girl asked. She wasn’t sure how her grandfather would react, but they had a deal and she could only hope he was a man of his word. That hope began to dwindle the longer the balding man stood there staring at her with his mouth agape. Eventually, Rolland made his way over to the photograph on the cabinet, standing it up like the others, “You’re not a traditional granddaughter, Marinette, and you know what? – I like it.”

* * *

Everybody had gathered at the Dupain-Cheng bakery before the celebration. Marinette was the only one not yet present. Gina and Sabine were chatting while Tom was busy rolling out dough when the bell above the door rang. The women both turned to see who their visitor was only to gasp loudly, their mouths falling open in shock.

“Rolland?!” Sabina exclaimed, unable to believe what she was seeing. There in the doorway stood the man she had been on the phone with just that morning, the man that she was certain the family would never see again, carrying a loaf of bread with a ribbon tied around it. Next to him was the familiar sight of her daughter. It didn’t take the raven-haired woman long to figure out where the girl had been all day.

The sound of a rolling pin hitting the ground could be heard cutting through the stunned silence in the room. The man that had been using it slowly turned around to see his father for the first time in twenty years. Marinette watched the reunion with a smiled, “Happy birthday, dad.”

**Author's Note:**

> Again, sorry if this isn't very good. I've been angry lately but I suddenly felt like writing. Disney's seriously pissed me off with the way they're butchering Artemis Fowl. You can see my blog post about it on [Tumblr](https://xelkyrien.tumblr.com/post/616870247155236864/please-dont-watch-this-movie).  
> I'm probably going to hate them until the end of time for this. There's a part of me that's even convinced this whole copyright policy change they're doing right now is actually an attempt to distract fans from being outraged about the movie.


End file.
